The Newest Ghost Master
by LemonScentedLexis
Summary: When a young man dies, he is forced to become the newest Ghost Master, an entity tasked with freeing fellow spirits and terrorizing mortals.
1. Chapter 1

As he fell, Andrew could hear the wind rushing against his earlobes. The sound was not necessary pleasant, but not unpleasant either. It just WAS, and was the least of his worries at that point. His hands outstretched, they slowly clenched and released, as if attempting to use oxygen as a safety net. He knew, however, that there would be no net to meet. Only thick, solid concrete. He closed his eyes for a moment, privately enjoying the coolness the air provided to the back of his neck. As he fell to his certain demise, he silently wondered how many news crews would gather to see his body. How many by-standers would be haunted by the memory of his fall? His body stiffened, preparing itself for the rough collision with the ground. He could feel the cool air that traveled with him disperse, making way for the solid object that was his body. Quietly, he exhaled, opening his eyes for one final look at the world around him. He could hear screams for a brief moment, a deafening crack, and finally the soothing sound of silence. There was an overpowering nothingness for quite some time.

Lost in the abysmal darkness of limbo, Andrew tumbled, feeling rather disconnected from his body. His bones, shattered and split, began to repair themselves as he fell. This falling wasn't quite like his previous episode, he noted. It was much more controlled and gentle, plus there was no breeze at all. Was there even oxygen here? After concentrating for a moment, he realized that he was no longer breathing, but his lungs didn't know the difference. He could hear the snap of his bones returning to their rightful places, but felt nothing, except for the cold sting of realization. He was dead, and he was going somewhere—but where? Once his body was as good as dead, Andrew began to spin uncontrollably, unable to focus on a still point. Traveling from one world to another seemed to involve a lot of spinning, as if some God had flung his lanky body across time and space, like a frisbee. He was **NOT** a frisbee. Perhaps he would be, though, if reincarnation proved to be the next step for him. With each spin, he could feel a little more within his body. He felt the rush of his blood, the dizziness his brain provided, and the gut-wrenching wish to vomit from his stomach. Still, no heartbeat. His fingers tingled, as if they had touched an ice-cold surface, desperately attempting to alert him to something new. In his dizzy stupor, Andrew dismissed it as a side-effect from dizziness. What his fingers knew but could not admit was the addition of his new fate. But for now, the secret would have to stay within his chilled digits. Jolted to a stop, Andrew closed his eyes and doubled over, finding his feet on solid ground once again. As he straightened his posture, he found himself in an office, which buzzed with ringing phones and chattering employees. "Hyllooo, ovah heeere." A woman's voice called from a desk a few feet away, thick with an unrecognizably foreign accent. Andrew walked slowly towards the stranger, resting his hands on the desktop as he stared at the woman. "Whuut? Iz there somethin' on mhy fayce?" She asked, her hand reaching up and motioning to the area in question. Blinking, Andrew just shook his head, trying to pull his attention away from the woman.

He hadn't lied—there wasn't anything on her face. In fact, there was only half of a face left. The other half had very obviously been chewed off by some sort of beast. There were bite marks galore, but apparently, the woman didn't notice. "Naayme!" The woman yelled out, raising the only eyebrow she had left.

"Andrew Wal—" He began, but was silenced with a firm wave.

"Yeah, yeah, we awwl know who yew are. Siddown." She huffed, motioning to a chair in the corner of the office.

Confused, the recently-departed sat politely, crossing one of his legs over the other. As he stared down at them, he marveled at the reconstruction of his body. Clearly, it didn't happen for everyone in this place, as noted with the foreign secretary. Why was he so lucky? Was it because his death was an accident? While he worked out reasons in his head, a tall man exited a door in the corner, a clipboard in hand. "Andrew?" He called around, focusing on the young man in the corner. "Come with me." He said with a huff, beckoning the new spirit forward with a finger. Dragging his feet, Andrew followed him back into the room, hidden behind a closed door. He blinked as he entered, expecting something extraordinary. Instead, he found three chairs and a desk, trapped within a tiny room with no windows. The two men sat across from each other, the older one rummaging through drawers. "So, enjoying yourself so far?" He asked, though it was apparent that he didn't really care either way. Before his guest could answer, the man pulled out a file. It was labeled 'ANDREW WALKER,' and appeared to be quite tattered and worn. "There has been a lot of discussion about your case." The man grumbled, scratching his neck with a shrug.

"My...case?" Andrew asked, folding his hands in his lap uncharacteristically.

"Yeah, your case. Don't worry, you'll learn all the regulations and terms soon enough. For now, we'll review your death. Lets see..." The man flipped through a few pages, stopping on one with a picture of the teenager's mangled body. "Here we are. Andrew Walker, dead on his fifteenth birthday. According to my report, you were on the roof, trying to chase down a piece of paper. Really? A paper?" The man snorted, looking at the young man with an irritated glance.

"It was important. A gift from a friend." Andrew muttered in defense, his grip on his own hands tightening nervously. "I never got a chance to read it, it blew away before I could even—"

Clearing his throat loudly, the elder spirit closed the case file and stood, motioning for the boy to follow him. "We'll talk about it later. We don't have time to sit and flap our lips. We need to get you into training."

"Training?" Andrew followed at the quickest pace he could, terrified of being left behind.

"Yes. You're our newest Ghost Master." The man chuckled, leading them down a long hall, which grew darker and colder as they went. At the end of the hall, a large door was visible, marked with foreign symbols and words. "I'll be accompanying you for a short while, but only for a part of your training. The rest, you will have to accomplish on your own." The man, dressed in a sharp suit, adjusted his tie, opening the door once they reached the end. On the other side was a spinning vortex, which glowed an appealing shade of light blue. "Well, go on!" The man motioned to the vortex, giving the new Ghost Master a shove towards it. Though he hesitated, Andrew reasoned that he was already dead; not much else could go wrong, right? With a shaky breath, he stretched his legs and jumped, once again becoming lost in an uncontrollable tumble.

Once solid ground was met once more, Andrew found himself sprawled out on the floor. His new counterpart landed beside him gracefully, looking down at the soon-to-be Ghost Master. "Having a nap, are we?" He taunted, walking forward casually. "Hurry up, I have no intention of staying with you for eternity!" The unidentified spirit in a suit called back, pleased as the recently-departed scrambled back to his side. As they walked down a new hallway that resembled an abandoned hospital, the man scratched his head. "Oh right, we need to get your body prepped. Mnn, no, we'll train you a bit first." He mused quietly, scratching at his chin. "This room." He pointed, easing open a door that was labeled "Fetter Room."

As the door swung open, Andrew was surprised to see that there were no books, teachers, or explanations of any sort inside. Only a few objects were scattered around: a fishtank, a gun, a mirror, a plant, and a piano. Confused, he looked back at his current counterpart, silently requesting an explanation. With a sigh, the unnamed spirit flipped through the pages on his clipboard, searching for a page in particular. "As a Ghost Master, you will control other spirits in effort to appease the Haunter Committee. You will have the ability to bind spirits to the mortal realm, but not every place. Each spirit has one or two fetters it can be bound to, depending on their death." When his pupil still looked confused, the elder continued speaking. "Look around the room. For this, I'll give you an example. Say you summoned a water sprite. Which object would you be able to bind it to?"

"The...fishtank?" Andrew asked unsurely.

"Yes. Out of these objects, the fishtank would be the only object you could bind it to. If you were in the mortal plane, you could bind it to any body of water. A puddle, a lake, a sink, a bathtub, a toilet." The man scratched his neck uncomfortably, shifting his weight to his other foot. "There are a variety of fetters. Fire, water, electricity, emotional, murder, outside, inside, thoroughfare, mirrors, children, and violence."

"So for emotional and thoroughfare—?" The Ghost Master began, but was cut off.

"Emotional fetters can be anything that a mortal has bestowed such feelings toward. For instance, this piano holds an emotional fetter. Thoroughfare relates to areas of passage. Hallways, porches, doorways—anything like that. While at work, just focus on an object, and you'll sense its fetter. Some objects may have more than one fetter, like the gun for instance. It holds an emotional and murder fetter. Keep in mind that some objects don't have fetters at all, so you'll have to remain crafty with your summoned spirits." He explained, tucking his clipboard under his arm. He turned swiftly, exiting the room with his newest trainee.

"So, do you have a name?" Andrew asked as he tagged along, eagerly hoping for an opportunity to connect with the other spirit, as he felt he had no one left to connect with. Pausing for a moment, the spirit listened, then kept walking. He continued speaking, ignoring the trainee's question.

"As a Ghost Master, you will be instructed to carry out certain tasks by the Haunter Committee. While the bulk of your duties will consist of haunting mortals, you may be asked to do other things. Increasing belief in the supernatural, avenging deaths, and freeing trapped spirits are not beneath your tasks. As a Ghost Master, however, you will be unable to directly interfere in the world of mortals. You shall be given the ability to summon other spirits to do so. When you are not haunting, you are responsible for training your 'team,' which includes awarding them new powers." The nameless spirit coughed, scratching at his neck for what appeared to be the tenth time.

"Powers? So they can do things, then?" Andrew chimed in, trying to get a firm grasp on the understanding of his new position.

"Yes, you see, each of us have certain abilities. The spirits you will work with will have a variety of powers relating to their fetter. Water sprites can summon rain, wind, thunderstorms, and so on. You will have to talk to your team about their abilities to find out more. It's different for everyone." He continued to explain as he walked, readjusting his tie once again.

"Well, you said something about giving them new powers. How am I supposed to do that? I don't even know what my own powers are." Andrew sheepishly rubbed at the back of his head, uneasy when he considered how much he didn't know.

With an agitated sigh, his mentor flipped through the pages of his clipboard again, skimming for information. "Plasm. Plasm is a limiting factor which dictates which abilities a ghost can use. As a human becomes frightened, plasm is generated. With more plasm, stronger abilities and more spirits can be summoned at one time. When you are finished with an objective, you will have the opportunity to train your team, using collected plasm. Not all plasm collected will be used for such purposes, but you will be permitted to keep a portion of it. With this plasm, you will be able to thoroughly train your team, allowing them to use stronger abilities." He stopped reading and looked over his shoulder at the young spirit. Though Andrew looked as though he was beginning to understand, the man stopped again. "You should know about restless spirits too, before I forget." He skimmed through the various pages of information once again, sucking at his lower lip as he browsed. "Ah, here we go. Restless spirits. Many areas you will be instructed to haunt contain spirits who are bound to a particular fetter or location. Each restless spirit has a unique way to be 'laid to rest,' and by completing this task, the ghost will permanently join the Ghost Master's team. This spirit will then be available for summoning during hauntings." He flattened out his clipboard again and tilted his head. "Just speak to a restless spirit; they usually know how to get free, they just need a helping hand...or hand-equivalent."

Andrew, who wished he had taken notes at this point, only nodded. Never had he thought that he would be put into such a responsible position, even when he was alive! His head spun as he tried to remember all of the information given to him, and felt his head bob forward. "Anything else?" He mumbled quietly, afraid of what his mentor would say next.

"Just a few warnings and terms." The older spirit assured him as they walked the hallways, which seemed endless. "There are certain mortals that may be a threat to your team. They will be unable to harm you, but summoned spirits may be banished. Keep a look-out for witches, mediums, and priests. They may sound like silly mortals, but they have the ability to temporarily banish your team members from an area. There are ways to stop them, however, but you'll have to figure that out on your own." The unnamed fidgeted, slowing as he approached a door at the end of the long hallway. "There are twenty three different types of spirits, which can be separated into 6 different classifications. Sprites, Disturbances, Elementals, Vapors, Frighteners, and Horrors. Once you get into working a little more, you can work on determining all 23 different types of haunts. Or, you could always just ask your team. This is where you cross the threshold into your new fate as a Ghost Master." He motioned to the door, and took a step back from it. "Only you can pass at this point. Oh! And before I forget, this letter is addressed to you." The spirit pulled an envelope from his suit, then handed it to the newest Ghost Master. "By the way, it's Maugrim. My name, that is. Your mortal name won't apply anymore, from now on, you'll be known as 'Ghost Master.' I'm sure the Haunter Committee will give you a district, though." For the first time, the spirit smiled and nodded his head. "Well, good luck. Don't fuck things up, hmm? We have spirits counting on you, Ghost Master." With a wave, Maugrim walked into a wall, his body easing through, then disappearing.

Andrew was alone. Nervously, his hand outstretched towards the door, trembling as it took the handle. Was he ready for what he was about to encounter? Would it matter? He looked at the envelope in his other hand and nodded slightly, opening the door slowly. He took a step in, and found himself surrounded by darkness. A light flickered on and revealed a machine which looked suspiciously similar to a metal detector. "Ghost Master, huh? Mmn, I never could resist a spirit in uniform!" A woman's voice called out from across the dimly-lit room. As Andrew looked around, he stared at a human-sized rabbit, which appeared more human than animal. "What? You act like you've never seen a Pooka before! But with all these labels, I'm called a Trickster these days." She reached a well-defined hand up and stroked at her ear, sitting comfortably on a desk in the corner. "What's wrong, sugar? You don't like my look? Well, then, suppose a change is necessary." She stared at the newest Ghost Master for a moment, then shuddered, her body shifting into a new form. She mimicked Andrew's appearance perfectly, down to his voice and movements. "I'd marvel at this look while you can, Ghost Master. Where you're going, you aren't going to have legs or a body." The self-identified pooka ran its fingers across its new body, poking at the skin. "So, stand in the identifier!" She pointed to the metal-detector and smirked, tilting her head to the right.

Though reluctant, Andrew slowly stepped towards the machine, settling into a nervous stance within it. Lights flickered on the sides of the machine as it hummed with life, shaking with power as it began to activate. A powerful surge of electricity sped through his body, paralyzing him for the best work possible. The feeling of having one's soul ripped from a body was quite unpleasant, to say the least. Had Andrew had the ability to speak at this point, he would have compared it to having every nail brutally ripped from his fingers and toes, his eyeballs being gouged out, and his flesh being scraped from his bones. He would have screamed, but he no longer had a connection with his body, which included his vocal chords. After what felt like an eternity, the machine rumbled to a stop, falling silent and letting the Ghost Master go free. Andrew attempted to take a step forward, but found that he no longer had legs. He looked down at himself, but saw nothing, save for a glowing aura. The pooka on the desk laughed and clapped her hands, tucking herself into a comfortable ball. "Well, don't you look handsome!" She teased, looking down at the body she continued to mimic. "Well, you did, anyway. Now, go through that door. You will be transferred to the mortal realm, where you will have the ability to read the letter you were given. And don't worry, you'll see your body again. When you have to come back to this area, you'll be returned to your human form—just not as painfully. Toodles!" She called as she opened the door for the disembodied Ghost Master. Having no choice in the matter, Andrew drifted forward, exiting the only way he knew how. As he 'stepped' out, he could feel his non-body slip forward, disappearing in a rush of nothingness. He was falling, AGAIN. Damn it.

Landing was a little more comfortable this time, but the Ghost Master assumed it was because he had no legs to trip over. The envelope Maugrim had given him drifted down once he landed, halting in the air before him. As Andrew reached towards it, the envelope opened on its own, the letter unfolding itself neatly. Squinting, the newest recruit read through the letter.

_**Ghost Master,**_

_**It has come to the attention of the Haunter Committee that the citizens of Gravenville are**_

_**slipping into disbelief of the spirit world. The time has come for action to be taken, and swiftly at that. We are short on experienced Ghost Masters and so we are sending you in, but not unarmed. We are providing you with a training manual. In it you will find all the information you need to be successful, including an instruction manual, a list of the haunts available to you, as well as their powers and a brief description of each. We have also provided some of our most powerful spirits to assist you on your tasks. Take them or leave them. It's your decision. Remember the basic rules of haunting. You cannot kill or take control of a mortal. You can only**_

_**hope to terrorize, drive mad and influence them to do your bidding. You will find restless spirits in each mission. Listen to their problem and find a way to lay them to rest. When you do, they will become available to you for future haunts. If you are unsuccessful in your mission, or leave a restless soul behind, use the time gate to revisit the haunt. Remember, no good Ghost Master leaves a trapped spirit behind.**_

_**Good luck Ghost Master,**_

_**The Haunter Committee**_

With a comforted sigh, Andrew re-read the letter a few times, then nodded. As he looked out over the hill he had been transported to, he examined several areas with glowing auras. He immediately knew that these would be his first few missions as a Ghost Master. Much like the letter, a small handbook floated down from the sky, landing before him gently. He took it into his non-arms and nodded, a light smirk playing over his non-lips. As Maugrim had said, there were spirits who needed him—and no good Ghost Master would leave them behind.


	2. TellTale Signs

Shaky hands gripped the edges of a podium. They tightened unsurely, knuckles whitening when confronted by the pressure. A cleared throat, an unadulterated sob from the audience. "Kallie..." The speaker began, but stopped, hoping to regain their train of thought. They were unhappy to find, however, that their train had been completely derailed. "I've known Kallie for a...a really long time. Our parents were friends and uh," he took a pause, remembering to take things slow, "we've just always been friends." He inhaled slowly, exhaling in hopes of ridding himself of his unsettled feelings. It didn't work. "We were never really close, but I like to think that we could talk if we needed to." His sweating hands gripped the podium's sides again, restraining his pain. "When Kallie killed herself, everyone was surprised. She was a promising student, and as most of you know, she jumped in front of a bus." The speaker choked back tears as he spoke, and while most of the audience cried, there was a guest who remained unmoved.

Andrew Walker, or at least what was left of him, watched in silence. He was unimpressed by the suicide of this girl who he barely knew. He remembered her from life, remembered attending her funeral as a real person. Now, he was just _a something._ An empty shell of his former life, unseen by those around him. '_Jumping in front of a bus. How unoriginal. It's like she wasn't even trying. I bet she just wanted the attention-hoped to be stopped by someone, or maybe slightly injured. Instead, she hopped a little too far and was crushed.' _Andrew thought to himself callously. _'Everyone cries, but really, they couldn't care less. They'll convince themselves that life is important, but when times get tough, they'll consider doing what she did. Pathetic mortals.' _Andrew found that dying had made him quite insensitive to the living. Various training had alerted him to just how selfish mortals were. Though it had only been a few weeks, he felt as though his former self had been stripped away completely. There were times when he felt humanity within him, but he was always reminded that he just wasn't human anymore.

"Ghost Master?" A voice called out clearly into the room, but the audience was unaffected by it. "Excuse me, Ghost Master?" It asked again. The area blurred, familiar faces molding into unrecognizable figures. A clock could be heard clearly. It's ticking was faint at first, slow and steady, but it sped up, chiming loudly.

The Ghost Master blinked and turned his head, observing his intruder. "Yes?" He asked, his expression dull and unemotional. The Time Gate always made him feel uneasy when returning, but the feeling passed quickly. "What is it?" He surveyed the entity before him, immediately recognizing the spirit.

"Well uh, I don't know if you remember me that much but -" She began, but was cut off by the more powerful spirit.

"Maxine Factor. Apparition, housebroken, murder fetter. You were a cosmetics sales woman in life. Your epitaph said you were pleased to find that ectoplasm doesn't wrinkle. How...superficial." Formerly-Andrew stated blandly, rubbing his pale fingertips together. He was unimpressed of her attempt to be coy, and had grown to dislike spirits who weren't upfront. "I discovered you in the home with Static and Arclight. I remember you just fine." He continued, waving a hand impatiently. "What do you want?"

"Well Sir, or Madame or...well, whatever you are! I was just speaking to one of the other spirits, and I heard there was a new case file in. Now, I know it's none of my business and all, but-"

"You're right. It isn't any of your business. Now, do you have a point to this or what?" Andrew interrupted again, quite rudely.

"That's what I was getting to. I was wondering if I could sit this next task out. Y'see, there's this beauty course for the undead and I was just hoping to get involved with-"

Andrew stood firmly, his posture straightening out. "I don't know what it is about me that makes spirits think I care about their problems. Maybe it's the way I sit, maybe I give too much rope, but keep in mind that I am in charge of this team. Your petty wants are of no concern to me, Maxine Factor." He sighed, flustered with his irritation. "You may attend your _whatever-it-is. _Just don't let the Haunter Committee get word of this. Don't need them sending in spirits to make sure I haven't gone soft." He rubbed his temples with a cold hand, annoyed that he had to deal with more bargaining.

"Yes Ghost Master, thank you." The apparition bowed her head respectfully, then disappeared into a whirl of green light. Though he was particularly annoyed that his break had been cut short, the entity exited the white, empty room that he had been occupying. Though the couch would have been viewed as comfortable by a mortal, or perhaps even a more daft spirit like Tricia, Andrew chose not to notice. He stepped out into the larger break room, occupied by a few well-known spirits. Clatterclaws, the large undead spider occupied the ceiling. His legion of followers scattered around him, held up by some invisible web. He anxiously waited for someone to eat their lunch beneath him, hoping to steal something.

"Clatterclaws, you know a prized haunter like you could get lunch for free." Andrew grumbled slightly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Clatterclaws only stared with his multiple eyes and moved his legs, then turned his attention back to the vacant table beneath him. '_Clearly he just wants to steal for the thrill._' Andrew thought to himself and sighed. Cogjammer, a gremlin known for his wild nature, assaulted a vending machine in hopes of getting a beverage. Unicorn Seed!, Horaldo's Horrors, and Diet Smog were just a few of the options, but Andrew felt no need to eat. Though he had his body back for the time being, it felt cold and different. Unlike the other entities, most of his qualities had been stripped from his form. Though he _could _eat food like the others, he didn't crave or hunger for anything other than ectoplasm. Of course, he wouldn't eat it, but the satisfaction of doing his job was the only thrill he still grasped. Arclight, a particularly polite spirit, walked into the room with a cough.

Andrew had been fond of the former boiler technician since they met, as they shared a common interest in peanut butter. Arclight had explained to the Ghost Master how much he liked to use the food when he was alive. Smoothies, sandwiches and even ice cream were not exempt from his desire for the topping, and the thought made Andrew feel nostalgic. He attempted to imagine the taste of peanut butter, but found that it was near impossible since his death. There were substitutes for food in the afterlife, but nothing was quite the same. He found that every bite of something new erased another memory of mortal food, and so, he did his best not to eat. "Ghost Master. Maugrim is looking for you again, I guess he has something to talk to you about." Arclight said as he strode inside, grasping a lunch box with burn marks all over it. Andrew nodded and exited, walking into the vacant hallway which lead to different dimensions and rooms alike. His first week was the hardest, as he found himself getting lost in different dimensions, including a realm where crabs ruled the Earth. As he walked, the Ghost Master privately wished that someone would call him Andrew again. He missed having a connection with someone, and he missed the nicknames that people he didn't know would give him. According to the Haunter Committee, giving nicknames to a Ghost Master was disrespectful, not to mention unheard of. Apparently, the last spirit to try this was banished to an unsightly dimension filled with horrors untold. While Andrew tried to imagine something that would truly frighten a ghost, a voice startled him once again.

"Ghost Master!"

He had learned to respond to the term. When he turned, he noticed Maugrim, dressed in his suit, like always. "Having lunch?" He asked with a smile, but didn't wait for a response. "Come on, we'll talk in my office. I have some news to discuss with you." The elder spirit lead him down a hallway, took a left turn, then a right turn. After a few minutes, Andrew found himself back in the room he had first shown up in. Maugrims office, though relatively unpleasant the first time, brought a sense of calm to the Ghost Master. While he had originally noted it as bland and impersonal, he valued those traits now, and considered anything above it as 'tacky' and 'unnecessary.' As being distracted from his thoughts seemed to be the reoccurring instance for the day, Maugrim continued the trend. "Good news! The Haunter Committee has been extremely pleased with your work so far! So far, you've recruited a number of new spirits to the task force. Certain rewards will be given if you keep up the good work." The spirit in the suit smiled again, scratching at his neck habitually.

"Rewards? Like what? I'm already dead, I don't really see how that could be improved." Andrew's bitterness rose to the surface again, but his caseworker seemed unaffected by it.

"Well, you remember that piece of paper you died chasing after?" He asked, receiving an unsure nod from the Ghost Master. "Well, word is, the Haunter Committee got their hands on it! Yeah, and if you ace the next couple of cases, they might just hand it over to you." Maugrim raised his eyebrows, shifting through his desk for files.

Andrew pretended he wasn't impressed. "But it was just a piece of paper. I hardly consider that a reward."

Maugrim paused for a moment, but didn't look up from his business. "Well, I don't know about you, but if I died over something and never got closure, I would like to know what it was about, even if I couldn't do anything about it." Maugrim paused, his eyes scanning the floor emotionally. "But not all of our deaths were about something as simple as a letter. Some of us...some of us never really recover." Andrew felt what was left of his no-longer-beating heart try to reach out to Maugrim, but the other spirit changed the subject quickly. "So! The Haunter Committee is pleased to inform you via me that new spirits have been added to your team. Here are their files, I think you will find them extremely helpful. They're some of the best, but there's also a few talented newbies mixed in." Maugrim smiled and handed over the files, which Andrew began to browse through.

"This one's torn." He noted.

"Hm? Which one?" Maugrim peeked over at the top of the papers stacked on his desk.

"Lady Rose? It's torn, like they've been looking at her file a lot. She seems experienced—does the Haunter Committee refer to her a lot?" Andrew looked up, only to find that Maugrims expression had turned cold and hurt. Immediately, he regretted bringing it up.

"Y-yeah, I...I guess you could say that. R-_Lady_ Rose is very classically trained. But you can read about all of them in their epitaphs. Well, not really her, but...the rest of them. A-anyway, I have some business so you can get back to work too. The Haunter Committee already has a new case for you, you'll find it in the handbook, like always." Maugrim swiped at unseen dust on his desk, busying his hands in an attempt to distract himself. Andrew nodded and stood, exiting the room slowly. He was confused, but decided not to pry for answers where there was obvious pain. He had seen Maugrim almost every day since he started his new career path, but he never showed any signs of weakness. Just the mention of this _Lady Rose _spirit had instantly made the more experienced entity a mess. Opening up the files, Andrew browsed through the spirits.

**Black Crow**

_**Type:**__ Wight. __**Level:**__ Wild. __**Fetter:**__ Corpse, Earth._

_**Epitaph:**__ Death is what you make it. Black Crow, still filled with sorrow at the murder of his people and the misuse of the land by the invaders from across the sea, continues to walk a trail of tears._

"A wight, huh? Well, that's a new one. Must be rare, considering I haven't run into any before." Andrew mused as he walked down the lone hallway, reserved just for Ghost Masters and their caseworkers. He assumed this would be the perfect place to muse to himself, considering everyone else was probably working at the moment. Though he had been acquainted with a couple other Ghost Masters like himself, he found the meetings to be awkward and uncomfortable. He compared himself to them whenever they appeared, and disliked their demeanor. The ones he came across were all very stiff and professional, which he found to be inefficient. From what he had seen, spirits needed someone who could relate to them, or at least give them some leg room. Andrew had learned first hand that dying was no walk in the park, unless you happened to die that way. Without Maugrim to lead him, who knows what he could have been like? Most spirits he dealt with were wild and had no experience whatsoever. Though this made them more difficult to work with, it also made them nervous and emotional. Without his help, they would end up heartless and unwilling to listen, so he did his best to be fair. He stared at Black Crow's pictures, which exhibited the former Native American in his majestic stature. It wasn't hard to guess his cause of death-a large hole through his mid-section was painfully obvious, his bones visible to anyone who looked his way. Andrew flipped to a new file.

**The Painter**

_**Type: **__Phantom. __**Level: **__Housebroken. __**Fetter: **__Emotional. _

_**Epitaph:**__ If genius and insanity are two sides of the same canvas, it's a mercy that the Painter never created a self-portrait. People didn't want to hang his paintings, so the Painter hung himself. _

Andrew couldn't help but smirk when he read the haunter's history. He thought back to the funeral he attended years ago, but had re-lived today. Perhaps Kallie could have taken a few tips from the Painter, who obviously showed finesse and creativity when it came to death. Sure, he didn't choose the most original cause of death, but the Ghost Master could see raw emotion and strength in his suicide. Perhaps that was why he became a haunter, not just another spirit to be classified in the suicide departments. He hadn't learned much about the different ways to be sorted in the afterlife, but apparently, suicide was rather unpleasant if you were unlucky. There were few who showed signs of strength and determination, and the Haunter Committee along with other department leads decided positions for the dead. When he considered other options for himself, Andrew felt quite happy to be a Ghost Master, and to have the power that he did. What would he have been like if he was forced to be a secretary, like the one with the mauled face? He never liked the idea of a desk job.

**Moonscream**

_**Type: **__Banshee. __**Level:**__ Untrained. __**Fetter:**__ Thoroughfare. _

_**Epitaph:**__ Professional haunters pride themselves on their reserve and impartiality, but Moonscream truly is fair in all things. Admittedly, this is because she hates all things with an equal passion—but marks for effort, all the same. _

Nothing special, Andrew reasoned, but he secretly enjoyed the idea of having a new Banshee around. Weatherwitch, his only current Banshee, had been the first spirit he liberated. While she seemed dedicated, the Ghost Master just didn't enjoy her presence at all. She whined loudly, and though she previously controlled the weather, she became the one controlled by it in the end. Though he didn't have much experience in the business, Andrew considered this to be unprofessional, and disliked her inability to control her powers. Not to mention, she looked like the very gusts she summoned! Now, as a Ghost Master, he knew he was expecting unfortunate faces, but Weatherwitch was a new classification of unfortunate-looking. Shuddering at the thought, he skipped to the last of the files, the worn one.

**Lady Rose**

_**Type:**__F__etch. __**Level:**__ Housebroken. __**Fetter:**__ Mirror._

_**Epitap**__**h:**__A mysterious, cultured Fetch, Lady Rose believes in etiquette above all else, and so politely refuses to reveal the details of her sordid past. _

_"Well, that doesn't help me much. Guess I'll have to do my own digging if I want to find out about her relations with Maugrim." His eyebrows raising, Andrew could feel a strange tingling sensation in his body—a spirit was calling him, he felt it. Though this wasn't an emergency notification, he sensed that things could get out of hand for this spirit. He sighed and clenched his fists, halting himself in the middle of the hallway. He focused on leaving his body behind, and soon felt himself separating from his human form. He seeped through the ground, his eyes closing comfortably as he enjoyed the sensation of slipping from one world to another. When he arrived on the other-side, he found that a few spirits were making quite the ruckus. There was a handful of his team members, gathered in a circle within the building they trained in. Andrew was not surprised to see the ringleader was Boo, probably the most famous of haunts in the astral plane. Surrounding him were a few newly released entities, the freshest being Tricia. According to her epitaph, she died after attempting to perform an overly ambitious pyramid formation. She was a hapless cheerleader in life, and clearly continued her habit of flirting and getting attention in death. Wendel, a spook just like Boo, was just as rowdy, despite his recent transition into the spirit world. As for his death, it turned out that the hazing stunt his fraternity brothers had him pull ____was __suicide, but he didn't like to dwell on such negativity. Thanks to Andrew, he was freed and joined the team happily. Terroreyes laughed along with the group as they prattled on, but it was obvious he wasn't fully engaged in the conversation. He was a disembodied brain with two large eyes, and was known to go with the flow in most situations. Though he was a valued haunter, he occasionally got bored and attempted drinking games, despite not having a mouth. Lastly, there was Buck. Buck, along with Boo was one of the most talented and well-trained haunters in the business. Whereas Boo had received multiple awards each year for his work, Buck was mostly unrecognized for his efforts. As in life, he remained loyal to his Master, be they living or dead. A simple brown hound dog was his form, but the congregation of fleas and insects that came with him were invaluable. Buck, along with one other haunt, were the only ones Andrew knew of who could not speak. Even the other spirit, Hypnos, was a dreamed-up spirit. According to his file, Hypnos was a nightmare that transferred to the spirit world when the dreamer who thought of it died in their sleep. At least Hypnos could communicate with vivid images—Buck, on the other hand, was incapable of speech at all. Still, he made due and understood every task directed at him._

_Instantly, Andrew knew that it was Buck who had sent the call. He sat outside the circle, slumped over as he waited for someone to break up the group. As Andrew approached, Tricia stopped her brainless giggling, and Wendel floated backwards, distancing himself from Boo. "Oh, come on! Don't say you're wimping out on me now, the party's going to be swingin'!" The ringleader laughed, not noticing the spirit in charge who had approached them. "But keep it to yourself, huh? We don't need that pathetic Ghost Master wandering in and ruining all our fun!" He laughed, his voice high-pitched and ear piercing. _

"Oh? And I was so looking forward to going." Andrew said clearly, looking over the group with a scowl. Instead of fussing and apologizing, Boo just snickered towards the other spirits. "You'll be lucky if I don't tell the Haunter Committee about this talk. Or do you need to be reminded? If I'm not mistaken, you've gotten just as many warnings as you have awards." The Ghost Master tried to scold him, but Boo seemed unimpressed.

"Look, you need me. Every spirit needs me. Just because you've been recruited to lead us doesn't make you so high and mighty. I have more experience than you can even fathom, so I think the Haunter Committee owes me for putting up with some newbie's little game!" Boo fought back with a confident smirk, getting closer and closer to the Ghost Master's disembodied form. "Come on, guys, better get ready for the next task. I can assure you that _I'll_ be taking the lead during it, as usual." He snickered as he lead the way through a wall. The others seemed unsure, but slowly began to follow.

"Hey! I wasn't done talking to you! C-come back! I..." Andrew sighed, looking down at the ground. Buck sat up and wagged his tail, making it known that he was still present and listening. "Thanks, Buck." Andrew, feeling defeated, mumbled. "He's right you know, I have no experience, and they made me some Ghost Master. I didn't even know that ghosts existed before I died! I hardly think I have any qualifications for this job." He sighed again, but blinked when a voice distracted him from his pity party.

"You shouldn't give up, young man. Just because some pompous spirit tells you that you aren't worth it doesn't mean you should believe him. After all, _you're _the one who got the promotion, not him." A woman's voice reassured him, soft and caring. As he whirled around, he was shocked to see Lady Rose, one of his new recruits. "Now, I may be new to your reign and all, but I appreciate what you're doin'. It takes real guts to try to take care of all these spirits. Some may get kinda rowdy, but just make sure you stay confident." She smiled politely, easily the most beautiful spirit he had come across thus far. Her skin was ghostly pale, but her dark hair created a stunning contrast between the two. Her bonnet and corset, along with the traces of a southern accent, made it apparent that she was previously a Southern Belle. Though Andrew felt the urge to ask about Maugrim rise within him, he silenced this crave and nodded appreciatively. Before he could really thank her, however, she had rounded up Buck and high-tailed it out of the room. As he felt his presense leave the training building, he recalled something she said. She had called him "young man," the first personal thing he had been called since his death. The thought made him warm inside, something that had been absent and foreign to his new body. Once he lingered upon the hill that overlooked Gravenville, he thumbed through the handbook, which glowed with energy. The pages flipped themselves once they decided the Ghost Master was taking too long, and landed upon a new page.

**The Blair Wisp Project**

_On commission from the University, three foolish filmmakers have entered the forest in search of a legend, driven by greed. Lead them to the cabin and get them to perform a summoning ritual. A powerful spirit known as the Darkling is in need of more souls, and once freed, it will be an important member of the haunting world. If you succeed in this task, the Darkling will soon be ours to command. _

As the Ghost Master read through the page, he nodded slightly, attempting to fathom what this Darkling would be like. Would it be friendly, or a self-centered jerk like Boo? Though feeling particularly self-conscious about his Ghost Mastering skills, he considered Lady Rose's peptalk, and decided that he wouldn't let her down. Besides, he had Buck and Arclight on his side when it came to hauntings. In a strange way, they were his only friends—the haunters who dared to respect the new entity, despite his inexperience. As he allowed the handbook to disappear into thin air once again, Andrew set off towards his newest task, ready to face mortal foes. New challenges awaited him, without a doubt, but somewhere inside, he knew he would be able to handle them.


	3. The Blair Wisp Project

A demented Professor, a few Nordic chants, a disembodied head? Was this all he was really faced with? Once arriving at his latest task, Andrew was disappointed to find such a boring setting. He was expecting something thrilling and mysterious, but instead, it seemed textbook. Mortals were doing what they always did. Stealing, taking credit, and trying to make money. The three amateur filmmakers took their sweet time wandering through the forest, searching for adventure. Amateur. Andrew scoffed at the notion. No, amateur implied that they _had _skill, that their work was valued but unfunded. These mortals were nothing more than _mediocre_, if that. As he looked over the pathetic scene that played out before him, he shook his non-head. Those bumbling mortals would take at least an hour to get out of the thick brush of trees that surrounded the premises. Even then, they would need guidance from his haunters. A good scare sounded pleasant and enjoyable at the moment, but he was aware of his duties. As Maugrim had told him once, not every mission is about the plasm. According to the Haunter Committee, there was a much bigger fish to fry: The Darkling. He had heard only rumors of such a creature, but apparently, one Ghost Master had previously attempted to free it. Andrew could never get a straight answer out of the other spirits about what happened in that case, but he wasn't worried. The Darkling was in _his _territory now, making it his responsibility. He wouldn't rush, however, as he knew there was another spirit to free.

First things first, however, he would have to organize his task force. As he surveyed key areas for haunts, Andrew plotted out access points and ways to help the mortals reach The Darkling. Though the thought of assisting a pathetic group of the living revolted him, he reasoned that it was his job. The property of this cabin in the middle of nowhere was impressively remote. A deep chasm separated it from the rest of the forest, which would be a problem when the mortals arrived. A bridge which would safely get the living towards the path to the chasm was destroyed. Though the thin river between the areas was small, he assumed that the humans would refuse to cross. Yet another problem he would have to fix. As he scanned the area once again, he felt a pulse from the middle of a lake which the property was built around. It was a familiar feeling, one that he could recognize anywhere: there was a spirit there. Upon further inspection, he found a small island of sorts in the center of the lake. A thick layer of trees secluded it from view, as well as fog. Nothing a few gusts of wind couldn't fix, Andrew noted, but it still made it difficult to find the entity. Once he eased through the obstacles, he found a - god, what was it? Though he intended to be unseen, the spirit whirled around quickly, sensing the presence. Andrew couldn't help but stare-this _thing _was nearly as bad as Terroreyes. Eyes and a tongue were the only real tissue left of it. The rest, only a skull and a severed spine. It floated calmly in midair, its large humanoid teeth visible as its mouth hung open. "And you are," Andrew paused in thought, "the Blair Wisp?"

The skull only continued to bob in the air, as if floating on a gust of wind. "Threeeee centuries hence, this foolish wisp cruelly wronged a powerful witch-my fate was seeeeaaled." It spoke very precisely, its voice somewhat high pitched and hypnotic. "I was cursed to the worst punishment a wisp can befaaaall, to never be seeeen by mortal eyeesss. Imprisoned within a ring of treees, I can only be freeed once the curse has been deeeenied."

Once it grew silent, Andrew blinked his non-eyes. "Uh-huh." On the job, he was pleased to find that he could refer to the handbook mentally. Being omnipresent had its perks, one of which being the availability of information. '_So let's see. A wisp.' _He browsed through the pages within his mind, focusing on each description of spirits. _'Here we are: wisps. Wisps experience pleasurable sensation when gazed upon by mortals, and as such are very hard to sneak up on. They can, however, be incapacitated by a really hard stare.' _Andrew gave thought to that notion-not being able to contain himself when looked at? Somehow, he considered that to be inconvenient. He turned his attention back to the Blair Wisp, who seemed uninterested in the presence before it. The disembodied head and spine just looked around blankly, tilting its head as it stared at the trees that blocked its view of the world. Did it even remember what other places looked like? "Don't worry, I'll get you out of here soon enough." He assured the spirit, but the wisp only stared at him for a moment, then back to its trees.

Wandering off, Andrew approached the cabin on the far North side of the property. He could sense another spirit, this one far more powerful than any other that he had encountered. He could feel a shudder making its way throughout his non-body, one which disturbed him thoroughly. As he eased through the home, he slipped beneath the top layer, ending up in the basement. The creature, which could only be described as a nightmare personified, was terrifying. It was horse-like in a way, with long thin limbs and a wide, long head. However, razor sharp claws covered the base of its hands, which displayed five long fingers. Its broad head could be easily forgotten when one stared at it's teeth, which looked like something out of a horror film. Its elongated legs perched the rest of its body upward, which gave it an arachnoid appearance. The creature had no skin, only muscle tissue, which occasionally seeped with unknown moisture. Veins and arteries could easily be seen upon its flesh, pulsing as if they would burst at any moment. The vision of the creature faded in and out continuously, bordering on the human and astral plane. The sheer power of the creature made Andrew woozy, the energy putting him in a nearly drunken stupor. He thought he would never feel fear again, as a spirit, and yet here he was-face to face with it. There was no doubt in his mind that this could be anything but The Darkling.

Sensing fear, a most delectable treat to it, the Darkling perked itself up. "Who approaches me?" Its voice boomed, deep and threatening, appropriate with its frightening form.

"A Ghost Master. I've come to free you." Andrew did his best not to stammer, as he didn't need another powerful spirit doubting him.

"A previous Ghost Master helped to surface me. Three souls were satisfying, but not nearly enough to restore me to my true power. Bring me more souls, more delicate morsels to safe the cyclopean appetite of The Darkling. Such tiny minds must be easy to herd. Upon reaching this place, they shall leave never more. Bring them to me, let darkness consume their pitiful existences. Dark destiny will not be denied this day! " It boomed, making Andrew want to crumble to pieces. Without so much as a goodbye, he drifted out of the area. He needed to get started, he could already sense the impending arrival of the mortals. He mentally sifted through the handbook again, this time focusing on which spirits to summon. As he calculated how to guide the mortals to the cabin, he predetermined a few in his mind. For the chasm, he would have to use nature as a bridge, literally. The large tree in front of the gap in the earth would make for a suitable bridge. To overturn it, he would need his most valuable Earth Elemental.

**Banzai**

**Type: **_Earth Elemental._** Level: **_Wild._**Fetter: **_Earth._

**Epitaph: **_The spirit of Banzai has been nurtured for centuries by generations of Japanese gardeners. He is a philosophical elemental, undaunted by tasks of any size._

A logical choice, in Andrew's mind. For the destroyed bridge, he would have to make his own again. If distracted, the mortals would cross anything suitable, like ice. Both Knuckles and Terroreyes had abilities that could bring freezing temperatures. Perhaps if they were used together, they could provide a climate cold enough to freeze the river.

**Terroreyes**

**Type: **_Apparition. _**Level: **_Untrained. _**Fetter: **_Murder._

**Epitaph**_: __Mortal children play a gruesome game at Halloween, passing objects to one another blindfolded. Peeled grapes become a dead man's eyes. Well children, these ARE a dead man's eyes. After being used for experiments, Terroreyes was kept in a glass jar as a souvenir of sorts. _

**Knuckles**

**Type: **_Spectre. _**Level: **_Housebroken. _**Fetter: **_Violence._

**Epitaph: **_Mobster ghosts are not exactly rare, but Knuckles presents a level of professionalism that's a cut above the rest. He doesn't put a severed horse's head in an enemy's bed-he uses his own._

Though murder and violence fetters weren't usually common to come across, Andrew had noticed some animal traps around the premises. Though the Professor who owned the property was sick and disturbed, at least he made Andrew's job much easier. He would need a spirit to guide mortals across, to lure them successfully. With one more animal trap left to bind to, the Ghost Master recruited another of his rescued spirits.

**Blue Murder**

**Type: **_Apparition. _**Level: **_Untrained. _**Fetter: **_Murder._**  
Epitaph: **_A fan of over-the-top cop movie heroes such as McClane and Riggs, Blue was disappointed to find that she died rather easily when shot with a lethal weapon._

As he sensed the mortals creeping closer to their first awaited task, Andrew felt the pressure to hurry. Who else would be needed in this task? Oh, the Blair Wisp would need to be freed, of course. A few gusts would clear up the fog that hid it, and Banzai could knock over a tree or two. A simple air elemental would do the trick, though he often found them unpleasant to work with. Oh well, they would only need to be bound to the area for a moment or two.

**Whisperwind**

**Type:** _Air Elemental._** Level: **_Untrained_**. Fetter: **_Air, Outside._

**Epitaph: **_Unlike many elementals, Whisperwind is a subtle spirit, forgoing ostentatious shows of power in favor of minor flights of fancy and small acts of mischief. _

Andrew realized upon another review of the task at hand, that Weatherwitch would be necessary. He groaned, unhappy to work with such an unpleasant spirit for yet another time. Though she was irritating and unprofessional, she excelled in her ability to lure mortals with her call. Even so, Andrew was revolted to have to see her face again.

**Weatherwitch**

**Type: **_Banshee. __**Level:**__ Untrained. __**Fetter:**__ Thoroughfare._

**Epitaph: **_As owners come to resemble their pets, so do witches come to resemble their spells. Specializing in weather control, this unhinged banshee soon became controlled by the weather, and now her mood swings are as temperamental as the skies. _

Since he would be unable to scare the mortals, plasm would be scarce—he would have to hurry if he wanted to avoid using the Time Gate. Recreational purposes were one thing, but using it out of necessity was frustrating to say the least. As the mortals wandered into view, Andrew sighed, looking down at them with a grimace. They seemed a little more pathetic this time, walking in circles and gripping their video cameras tightly. "Joshua! Joshua, I think we should turn back!" The only female of the trio called to another mortal. He shrugged off her comment, his male counterpart not so convinced. He was obviously very reluctant to trek only foreign territory, frightened of what they might encounter. "Joshua, please! This book probably doesn't even exist—it's nothing more than a legend!" The woman cried out again, more desperate.

The bravest of the mortals turned around to face her, shining his flashlight into her face. "You knew what you were getting into when you signed up. We're doing this for the money. And if it doesn't exist, how do you explain when Bruce, Marcy and Cambell disappeared?" Unwilling to wait for a response, Joshua turned back around and huffed angrily. "I swear, Jenny, sometimes you just don't think." He growled through gritted teeth. Offended but convinced for the moment, Jenny and the unidentified male followed behind their leader, nervous. As they neared a river, they shone the flashlight towards the left. "The bridge is broken. Looks too deep to cross, and I wouldn't want to risk damaging the cameras. We'll have to find another way across." The leader noted, following the small river towards a larger body of water. The ground shook powerfully, causing the unnamed man to trip and fall. He coughed and brushed himself off, carefully getting to his feet. Just as soon as the tremor had began, it ended. A thunderous crack was audible throughout the area, followed by another light tremble of the earth. The area grew still and silent, leaving the trio to glance around in wonder.

"What...was that?" The third male asked, his flashlight fumbling within his shaky hand.

"Just forget about it, Michael. Probably just an earthquake. Mild." The leader assured him bitterly, nearing the large body of water in the center of the property. The water was dark and murky, but didn't appear to be deep. Still, he had no urge to cross it. Just as the filmmakers began to wander off in the opposite direction, a quiet wail attracted their attention. They halted, turning back towards the lake once again. This time, a faint glow made them want to draw closer.

"Was...was that island there before?" Jenny asked, her words falling out of her mouth in a slurred manner. Before she knew it, she found herself drawn in by the glow, which appeared to be another person. Unable to control her body or mind, she and the other two men wadded through the murky water, nearing the tiny body of land within the lake. As they stepped up, they stared at the apparition before them, a holographic form of a man waving desperately. Entranced by this image, they hardly noticed that it was completely irrational and impossible. Before they could ask any questions, however, the glowing man disappeared. In his place was a floating skull, its spine delicately waving in the wind before it. A pause, a twitch, and three screams followed this brief interaction. The mortals fled, running as quickly as they could back to the safety of the mainland. They panted desperately, running around in circles like a group of brainless sheep. After a few minutes of terrified mumbles and whines, the leader drew them back together, reorganizing. "No, Joshua! What we saw, it wasn't human! I don't know what it was, it was—" She ranted, but was shushed immediately.

"Calm down. Obviously, the Professor put up a few images with a projector or something. He's just trying to scare off trespassers. It was a trick, nothing more!" He puffed out his chest confidently, then exhaled calmly. He blinked, however, when he noticed his warm breath was visible before him. "It's, uh, cold." He assessed blandly, surprised by the sudden shift of weather. Mid-summer, and yet it felt as if it were 20 below! He shivered slightly, his eyes widening when he noticed the grass beneath his feet had hardened. It crunched as he walked, coated with ice. It didn't make any sense, but he chose not to alert his coworkers. They were already paranoid, why freak them out by telling them it shouldn't be so freezing? He blinked again, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "I think we should cross the river." He said, entranced by some unseen force. Though reluctant, the other two followed him as he neared the small river. It had completely frozen over in mere minutes, but the leader didn't think about it. Driven by his newest obsession, he eased over the solid water, nearing a small animal trap across the way. Once the other two had joined him, he suddenly felt the control over his body disappear. He looked around in confusion, noting that the cold air had also vanished without a trace. The sound of running water alerted him to the fact that the iced river was no longer cross-able. "Weird." He muttered under his breath, but squinted off in the distance. "Look! It's the cabin—I see a light!" He called to the others, who looked relieved to be near the end of their journey. A cleverly-placed log allowed them to cross the other side of the river, closer and closer to their final destination.

Shining his flashlight, Michael looked out across the murky lake again. "We must be on the other side of it now." He noted quietly, but his counterparts ignored him completely. As they neared the light, they were forced to stop when confronted with a huge chasm. It was virtually uncrossable, the gap in the earth about fifteen feet wide. "Well, I guess we'd better get back now!" Michael said quickly, hoping to convince his partners. Just as he finished speaking, another earthquake rattled through the area. This time, it seemed to start right where they stood, forcing them to the ground. A sickening snap was followed by another monstrous thud. A huge elm tree had been torn from the ground, falling perfectly into place to form another bridge. "I think we should go." The skittish man told the group again, but they were amazed by their luck.

"Leave? After this tree fell to form our path? It must be a sign that we're meant to be here! Miraculous." Jenny swooned, the first to hop on the fallen tree and walk across it. Joshua was quick to follow, but not before forcing Michael to go ahead of him. Driven by greed, the leader would be damned if some freshman in their cinema class would stop him. As they approached the cabin, they grinned, pleased with their work thus far. Their pompous smiles turned into uncertain frowns, however, when they noticed the man lying on the ground before them. He twitched uncontrollably, his body crumpled and dirtied, as if he hadn't moved in hours. Jenny knelt down and gently shook him, attempting to wake him. "I...I think this is Bruce. He won't wake up." She said quietly, trying to fathom what could have put him in such a state.

Stepping forward, Joshua shone his flashlight on the missing student and snorted. "Looks like he was driven mad. His brain must have shut off all comprehensive movement; looks like he can't do more than breathe now." The filmmaker was remarkably insensitive to the mentally-absent colleague before them.

"I wonder what he was doing here." Michael piped in quietly, which earned him an angry glare from the leader.

"Are you kidding? Obviously, he was here for the same god-forsaken reason that we are. His team must have gotten selfish and did something to him. Maybe Bruce was planning to steal the finds for himself. Come on, let's finish what he started." Joshua snapped, then seemed to feel much better afterwords. Always the bully, he had never quite grown out of his need to boss people around. In time, he would learn from his mistakes, but he refused to believe that he was anything other than right. "Now come on, let's check out the underground area." He motioned to a staircase which led below the house, and eagerly motioned for his team to follow. The staircase was guarded by a door, but it had been carelessly thrown open, as if someone had been down there recently. Though unsure, the other two followed blindly, feeling rather paranoid as they entered the confined space. A large tape recorder, an old book and a few crates were the only things beneath the home—perfect for a summoning. Giggling to himself, Joshua picked up the book and thumbed through it. "Yes yes yes! This is it, this thing is going to make us rich! Hahaha, and it's all mine!" He was enthralled, his eyes gleaming with pride.

"You mean ours. It's all ours." Jenny corrected him, but he waved it off with a nod. "Now, let's just say the words and get out of here. I don't want to stick around for—" She began to speak again, but was cut off when someone cleared their throat behind her. All three students turned, surprised to see their Professor. They were even more surprised to see that he was holding them at gunpoint. Always rather mentally unhinged, the Professor waved the gun around at all three, demanding to know why they had come to his home. Speechless, the trio backed up slowly, staring down at the book.

The Professor was proud to admit that his reflexes were still intact in his golden years. He did his best to stay in shape, especially if he was going to achieve his lifelong dreams of being all-powerful. He was on the border of insanity, but he liked to think that he was clever and cunning. "You thought you could steal from me? Well, well you're wrong, that's what! You came here to just take it and run, but I'm afraid that's not going to be the case. I won't have you three freeing my prize! It's mine, I tell you, mine!" He shouted, pointing the gun a little more forcefully. "NO. It will be mine, but by my rules, you see. Can't have it freed just yet, no no no! Only two, only two." He grinned, tugging the only female close to him. He pointed the gun at her neck, then back at the two men. "You stay here, or I'll track you down and get rid of you!" He told them, leading Jenny up the stairs. He made sure to close the doors which blocked the staircase, locking them with a small padlock. He giggled madly and tugged at the back of Jenny's shirt, guiding her into the cabin. In her stupor, the young woman had assumed that _she _was the lucky one. She had convinced herself that the Professor would let her go—that for whatever he needed to do, she was not part of the plan. Instead, she found her entire world go fuzzy.

When she awoke, Jenny found herself tied down to a large table, incapable of movement. She screamed, then was approached by the Professor, who absently stroked her face. "Oh you. You're not quite what I expected, but you'll do. Was afraid I wouldn't have a woman this time." He cooed, brushing her blonde hair out of her eyes. "But you will do, yes, you will do just fine. Only if you stop screaming." He left her side for a moment, the entire room going black. Jenny fidgeted uncomfortably, frightened by the situation at hand. She had no idea what the Professor had in store for her, or where she was. She let out a startled yelp as a bright light was illuminated above her, blinding her temporarily. The Professor stood beside her, unfastening a small suitcase, which rattled as he moved it. Jenny's eyes widened in shock when she saw what was inside: various knives and weapons. She struggled with her binds desperately, but found her attempts to be rather ineffective. Inhaling deeply, the Professor lifted a large dagger from the suitcase, dragging it across the fabric of her shirt. It cut easily, exposing her stomach cleanly, a simple display of its power. Trembling, the woman's eyes flooded with tears, and she found herself unable to speak. "Your fear is," the Professor paused to inhale deeply, "intoxicating."

"Please, please don't do this to me." She whispered in terror, pleading him with her eyes. "I...I don't want to die."

"Oh, but you must! My prize needs sacrifices, and I couldn't have you getting away. No, no, three more souls is far too many! Two will do—it'll be mine, mine to control and to harness. And then my goals will become much easier. Yesss, much easier. You'll see—you'll live on within it! You will have died for the good of the world. For the good of my efforts. In a way, your death will be important, even with your insignificance." He stroked her face again with his free hand, dragging the dagger against the flesh of her upper-chest. She screamed again as it lightly cut through, leaving a thin trail of blood as it slid against her pale skin. "Now now, I won't deal with your screams." The Professor wagged a finger and tore off a bigger piece of her torn shirt. He forced it into her mouth, a makeshift gag for now. Soon, she would be incapable of screaming, and that was a time the crazed Professor would savor. Though the young woman before him was practically naked, the Professor had no intention of looking. No, he had deserted his affection for mortal bodies long ago. Now, they were used for two purposes: carrying souls and human sacrifices. Women were his favorite to cut up—he enjoyed the way they pleaded for mercy, the way they offered themselves in exchange for their deaths. Of course, the Professor would never succumb to such foolish requests. He had no need for such pointless temporary pleasures, he preferred working towards his future goals. For now, however, those goals would remain under wraps.

Jenny sobbed, her terrified groans muffled as she bit down onto her shirt. She could feel the blood from her chest drying, but it worried her to know that there was more to come. The elder man before her paced back and forth, examining her body carefully. "We don't want you dead quite yet, no no no, we need your body perfect for my prize. Not too fleshy, not too dry." He mumbled, not making any sense to the captured woman before him. Without a word, he grabbed her right wrist and forcefully cut, slicing across her veins cleanly. She attempted to scream, but it was almost-silenced by the fabric in her mouth. She sobbed and twisted, attempting to pull her wrist away. "No no no my dear, you can't drift off yet. The sacrifice is just beginning! Besides, this won't kill you." He examined her wrist for a moment, then smiled. "I see you haven't tried this before. Good! Pure humans are always more pleasant to sacrifice. Good thing I didn't let it have your soul, it might have gone free after all! And we certainly don't want that, do we? How many more people have to die before I get what I want?" He stroked her face, leaving a few swipes of her blood on her cheek. "Mmn, now look at that. So red and vibrant, isn't it? Feeling dizzy? Yes, that tends to happen. Unfortunately for you, this knife doesn't pierce very deep, but it leaves a very painful surface wound." He grabbed her wrist, roughly squeezing the sliced flesh. "See that? Yes, it's a good knife, a very good knife." He giggled, and went around to her other side.

Drained of both her energy and her blood, Jenny squinted, turning her head away from the light that seared into her face. The demented Professor surveyed her body once again, squinting when he noticed the tattoo on her ankle. "Disgusting. When you people pollute your body with imperfections—I...I will not stand for this!" He raised the knife again and dug it into her skin, burying it securely at the top of her tattoo. Slowly, he slid the blade down, painfully slicing off a portion of her skin. Soon, he had completely removed the thin layer of flesh, which displayed a few poorly-shaped stars. "I have cleansed you. But I must take precautions to make sure your body is pure enough." The Professor left the room again, leaving his 'patient' to groan and sob in pure agony. When he re-entered the room, he hid something in his palms, something Jenny couldn't see from her bound position. In any case, her vision was beginning to blur, making her relatively unaware of her surroundings. The Professor cackled quietly as he neared the cut ankle, making Jenny even more nervous. Within a few moments, she was screaming louder than she had before, cursing into the shirt fabric. Salt in a wound was unpleasant as it was, but salt in fileted skin was an entirely different story. For a moment, Jenny wished that the deluded Professor would have just cut off her ankle completely. The pain was unbearable, exhausting her body and spirit. Pleased with the results, the elder man paced back to her face for a moment, and gave it a final pet. "I'm afraid our time is just about done here. Your death will not be in vain, however—because of you, I'll be able to kill and control thousands, perhaps millions! Oh yes, it is your pathetic little life that is the difference between immortality and death. You can thank yourself for that." He grinned, staining her hair with the blood from his hands unintentionally. Crossing back to her legs, he pried them open, taking the dagger in his left hand. He carefully mapped out a specific area in her thigh and sliced roughly, deep this time.

An unrealistic amount of blood began to pour from her leg, and Jenny cried out again, wrenching in pain. The Professor returned to her side and leaned near her ear. "It's your femoral artery. It's amazing how many veins your thigh contains—you'll bleed to death in mere minutes." He watched her squirm like a fly in a spiders web, doing her best to resist. Her blood flooded the table, spilling out onto the floor. The Professor hardly seemed to mind though, and kept his eyes fixed on her face. After three minutes and twenty nine seconds, he saw all traces of life vanish from her face. The life in her blue eyes faded, leaving them dull and empty. Swiftly, the Professor returned to the basement, where the two men sat nervously on the ground. They looked up in terror when they noticed the blood covering the third party's clothes. "Get up!" The man demanded, and the two students stood instantly. "Now, recite the words. First page. NOW!" Even though he had forgotten his weapon, Michael and Joshua chose not to argue with the man. They reluctantly joined hands and squinted as they struggled to read the latin text.

"Dolor exerci blandit velit laoreet ex vero,

consectetuer ut, volutpat,

consequat vel aliquip amet

ipsum te dolore suscipit."

A flash of light erupted within the room, and Michael and Joshua shouted, feeling as if their bodies were being ripped apart. In all actuality, their souls were being forcefully separated from their human forms. The Darkling, unable to reject such morsels absorbed them immediately, feeling itself being shackled to the mortal realm. Before it could escape, however, the Professor flicked a switch on the wall. Iron conductors rose from the ground, emitting a dark green light, which caged the Darkling. The beast roared, but found that it was unable to escape the ectoplasm prison. Approaching the creature, the Professor marveled and fell to his knees. "My prize! Oh, how long I've waited to see it, to catch it! It's finally mine, all mine! With its powers, I'll control the world, the Universe, everything in existence!" He cackled loudly and exited the basement, leaving the soul-less bodies of his two former students behind. Unknowingly, he also left behind a Ghost Master, who was disappointed to find that he could not save the Darkling.

Andrew grumbled as he stared at the prison created for the powerful spirit. If IT couldn't break out, there was no way in Hell an inexperienced Ghost Master like himself could! Though he felt like a complete failure, he thought back to the Blair Wisp. Upon being seen, the spirit stretched out its spine and shook with excitement. "Ohhhhh! Aaaaaaah! Ah, to beeee seeeen. I had forgotten the pleeaasuuure. So...tingly! And now my curse is lifted, I am indebted to you." It disappeared in a flash of green light, waiting to be called upon in the future. Though he was originally pleased with his success in acquiring an old spirit, the failure with the Darkling discouraged him. How was he to know about the Professor? Though he had watched the murder, Andrew was surprised to discover that he was not disgusted. He had seen the aftermath of death, but his only problem was the actual murder of the girl. He noted that the Professor was insane, but very particular when he handled a body. He cut only in clean, perfect lines, and he valued innocent bodies. Virgins, those without piercings, and those without tattoos would be his favorite victims. Still, Andrew suspected that the paranoid old man would take the Darkling away somewhere, to hide it and continue his research. Unfortunately, he would have to save the powerful spirit another day, when the Haunter Committee revealed the location after investigation. Though reluctant to leave the imprisoned spirit, Andrew reasoned that he needed a strategy before he attempted anything stupid.

He calculated his gained plasm, and though it wasn't much, it would be a good addition to his collection. He had trained a few spirits, naturally Buck and Arclight were the first on his list, but he was still reluctant to use all of his plasm at once. He knew more powerful spirits would be in his possession soon, and he wanted to make sure any necessary training would be available. Drifting back to the other side, Andrew fidgeted as he felt his ears ringing. This was certainly new. He wobbled once he returned to his body, returning to the hallway he had left his body in previously. "S-stop! What the hell is—" he mumbled to his body, but was gripped by another Ghost Master.

"We have a meeting. Hurry up, you're gonna be late. That sick feeling you have is a Call. You get them from time to time." The Ghost Master of area 15 was as polite as he could be, but left his colleague out in the hallway as he hurried to the meeting. Though disoriented, Andrew quickly followed suit, easing into a room in East Corridor. A large group of Ghost Masters had been gathered, and Andrew chose to sit near the back of the room. After a few awkward moments of sitting by himself, Maugrim wandered in with another male. Confused, Andrew watched as the rest of the Ghost Masters nodded their heads respectfully. Surely they weren't addressing Maugrim, so he could only assume that this man accompanying him was very important.

"Hello everyone. Hopefully you're all doing well, but I'm sorry to say that this meeting isn't a check-in. As some of you may have heard, we have recently re-opened the Darkling case, and have been attempting to get it into our possession." Maugrim spoke with a friendly smile, but it quickly faded. "This is where our problem begins. This man," He slid a picture out of his file, which displayed the Professor from the cabin, "has kidnapped this poor spirit. Originally, we didn't consider him to be a threat, but he has been murdering frequently." The other Ghost Masters let out a general groan of disapproval, which Andrew didn't really understand, so he just grunted in unison. "As you know, when a mortal dies, they are sent to our realm to be sorted. Well, with these new slew of murders, we have been having problems with sorting. Many spirits have been forced to _wait _to move on, which is problematic in itself. Since the Haunter Committee has been busy dealing with these delays, they do not have the time to deal with this Professor. So, it will be your task to deal with this mortal if you come across him. He has disappeared with the Darkling, so enlist your haunters to search for them both. If you do find either one of them, alert me or my companion at once, and we will give you further instructions. It is very important that you do not go after the Professor or the Darkling on your own—this mortal is very powerful, and has been experimenting with ways to trap our kind. Now, as you know, you are normally exempt from such foolish attempts to harm spirits. In this case, however, we would like you to use extreme caution. Let us know. Now, I'll pass it over to Magistrate Tobias of the Haunter Committee." Maugrim bowed his head and stepped aside, allowing the other spirit plenty of room.

"Thank you, Maugrim. We appreciate your assistance in this situation. There is one more thing that we would like to alert you Ghost Masters of. This is very private, so we would appreciate it if you did not tell your haunters. Recently, there have been multiple problems in the mortal realm including demons. Now, there is nothing to be alarmed about, as our realm remains safe from their kind, but please keep a look-out for them during your haunts as well. If confronted by any, flee the area immediately. We cannot risk anymore spirits being attacked, lest we lose our defense system completely. You will sense their power, but keep in mind the fact that they normally look like regular mortals. Be careful, Ghost Masters, and don't let us down." The Magistrate bowed his head politely and strode out of the room, disappearing in a puff of white smoke. Though Andrew had never seen any spirit disappear like that, he decided not to question it. As the other Ghost Masters began to leave, the recently-deceased saw something moving quickly into the room. A woman? A ghost? Lady Rose, and she appeared to be on a mission. The room emptied save for the three of them, but the beautiful spirit didn't seem to notice.

With a swift motion, she slapped Maugrim across the face and pointed at him fiercely. "How dare you do this to me, Maugrim! I tried to be polite, to remain civil about this, but then you go and do this to me? You may have gotten here, but you sure as Hell need to move on. There's no sense acting like a child, so before you attempt to criticize my socialization again, I suggest you cover your tracks. What I do is none of your business anymore. Grow up." After a pause, she slapped him again and stormed out, holding the corners of her dress as she walked. Maugrim, whose face had grown paler than usual, only looked at Andrew for a moment before easing through the wall behind him.

Left alone in contemplation, the Ghost Master tried to consider everything that had just happened. Clearly, Lady Rose and Maugrim had a more detailed past than he originally thought, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. As he thought, he saw someone walking past the door, and looked up. It was Arclight. "Why hello Ghost Master. Going to lunch again, care to join me?" The spirit waved his burnt lunch pail once again, raising an eyebrow curiously. With a slight nod, Andrew followed him out the door, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Arclight?" He asked quietly.

"Yes, Ghost Master?" The pleasant boiler technician replied politely.

"What do you know about Maugrim and Lady Rose?"

"Well, they're both very powerful spirits and—"

"That's not what I meant. It's obvious there's something going on between them. I know you're just about as new as I am, but surely you know more than I do?" Andrew looked over at his friend, who looked somewhat uncomfortable.

"Well, I have heard a few things from Ghastly. But uh, can we talk about it while we eat? I can't really think on an empty stomach. Though, that's probably what got me killed in the first place, isn't it?" He scratched at his cheek and laughed coldly, clearly having no problem talking about his death. Arclight, along with Static and Maxine Factor, had been poisoned by a sweet elderly woman. Though Arclight had once described her as pleasant and kindly, she clearly didn't want her company to ever leave her. Arclight had been sealed in the basement, Maxine locked in the attic and Static was stuck in the chimney. After some cooperation with a handyman and police men, all three spirits had been successfully freed.

"Of course. I could go for a drink, anyway." Andrew agreed, though he was itching to hear more about his caseworker. Though he had the Darkling and the Professor on his mind, there was nothing better to relieve the mind than juicy gossip.


End file.
